


Mornings Are for Coffee and Contemplation

by Agent25



Series: One Love for the Heart [6]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 00:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent25/pseuds/Agent25
Summary: “Good morning, James.” he greets, his smile growing as James scowls, burrowing in deeper to T’Challa’s body heat.“Too early,” he pouts, lips puckered as he continues drinking his creamy coffee.“No one forced you out of bed,” T’Challa teasingly reminds him, “You could have stayed in your cocoon.”





	Mornings Are for Coffee and Contemplation

T’Challa loves early mornings.

He has ever since he was a small boy. The moment sunlight would creep in through his windows, he was always barreling out of bed, his little legs carrying him throughout the palace. Often his wanderings had brought him to the kitchens where jolly-cheeked cooks had passed him heavenly morsels of freshly fried Mandanzi, still hot to the touch, and juicy pieces of mango. Other times he’d trace the footsteps of the servants as they went about their daily duties, tugging on their skirts and babbling all the while.

His favorite morning excursions had always been to his parents’ room, sneaking in as quietly as he could (not knowing at the time that both his baba and mama could hear him and feigned sleep), climbing into their massive bed and waking them with hushed whispers and giggles. His baba would always pretend to growl awake, like a slumbering lion, with large yawns as he swept his son up in his strong arms, tickling the boy until his laughter bounced all around the bedchambers. He only ever stopped at the click of his wife’s tongue as she shook her head disapprovingly, though amusement was clearly dancing in her dark eyes.

Even now, as an adult, T’Challa finds solace in the early morning light, when the rest of the palace is still slumbering peacefully.

Shuri jokes it is because he is more cat than human. She can’t fathom ever arising from bed before the sun is cresting high in the sky. She is, as they say, a night owl, through and through. T’Challa, however, enjoys watching the sunrise, riveted by the way the sky morphs into an ever-changing mosaic of pinks, oranges, and purples.

His suite of rooms is situated right above the Royal Gardens, allowing him the very best view in all of Wakanda. Below him colorful flowers such as golden African daisies and striking white lilies are springing to life, gently swaying in the morning breeze. Birds are soaring through the sky, singing their ancient songs.

T’Challa silently observes as a Superb Starling lands on the railing of his balcony, taking a rest as it shakes out its iridescent feathers. Its belly is a brilliant red-orange, giving way to a deep blue breast. The bird tilts its black head as it watches the king for a moment, before hoping off the balcony and taking back to the sky.

T’Challa leans back, making himself comfortable on the cushioned couch as he soaks up the warm sunlight. He is already dressed for the day, outfitted in an exquisitely embroidered dashiki. His Kimoyo beads lightly jingle as he brings his mug up to his mouth, languidly sipping coffee. He’s always taken it black, allowing its natural flavor to take precedence over anything else. Today he can taste the fruity notes of blueberries and just a hint of citrus lurking beneath.

His head lulls back, eyes closing as his body relaxes, allowing the early morning sounds to sweep him into a soothing daze. On mornings such as these he is not king or protector, but rather a man with no expectations or pressures placed upon his weary shoulders. Anything seems possible on such beautiful mornings.

Only one thing would make it better…

T’Challa’s ears perk up as he hears muffled sounds from inside his rooms. A slow smile spreads across his face as he lazily blinks his eyes open. Concentrating, he can hear the rustle of sheets as his bedmate rolls around, clearly trying to cling to the vestiges of sleep.

“…’Challa?” a gruff voice groggily calls out.

“Out here, James.” he replies lightly, setting down his coffee on the side table. Moving methodically he picks up another porcelain cup, pouring hot coffee into it as steam rises up from the mug. He deposits a spoonful of sugar into the cup, gently swirling it. He then adds a dash of hazelnut milk, watching as the coffee turns a decadent shade of brown. It’s far too sweet for him, but it’s exactly how James takes his coffee.

Inside he can hear his lover muttering sleepily to himself as he pushes back sheets and blankets, heavily rolling out of bed as both feet land on the tiled floors with a plop. James’ gait is uneven as he shuffles through the spacious bedroom, and if his grumbled curse is to be believed, James rams into something along the way.

T’Challa watches with amused eyes as James stumbles out onto the outdoor balcony. His sleep pants are loose on his hips, hanging low, and he is shirtless, showing off the dips and cuts of his impressive body. His vibranium arm gleams, the golden inlays shimmering with every movement. His long hair is a wild mess, because no matter how often T’Challa says it, James refuses to put it up or braid it before going to bed. James has his arms up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he maneuvers himself towards T’Challa’s location.

James carelessly plops down upon the couch, head landing expertly in T’Challa’s lap. The king’s breath is sucked out of him as all 180 pounds of super-soldier land on him. James wordlessly curls up, making grabby hands for the coffee cup T’Challa is holding above him. He hands it over and watches as James gulps nearly half the cup down in one giant sip.

James hums in satisfaction as he lowers the cup, resting his cheek on T’Challa’s knee. An affectionate smile is permanently painted across T’Challa’s face as he gazes down at his partner, who is stretched out across the couch, taking up as much space as possible.

“Good morning, James.” he greets, his smile growing as James scowls, burrowing in deeper to T’Challa’s body heat.

“Too early,” he pouts, lips puckered as he continues drinking his coffee.

“No one forced you out of bed,” T’Challa teasingly reminds him, “You could have stayed in your cocoon.”

James rolls his head back, just enough to make eye contact with his partner as he mockingly glares.

“Bed’s not the same without you.” he states matter-of-factly and without shame, “Too empty.”

If his heart beats a little bit faster at James’ unfiltered honesty, well, no one can ever call him out on it.

T’Challa’s chest rumbles as he laughs joyfully, hand clasping James’ shoulder, as his fingers trace nonsensical patterns into the smooth skin. James huffs out a pleased breath, eyes slipping close at the loving touch. T’Challa’s fingers migrate up, tangling themselves into James’ thick tresses. James bucks his head up into the touch, letting out a low snuffle as T’Challa’s nails scrape over his scalp reassuringly.

A serene sense of calm settles over the pair as Wakanda wakes up around them. T’Challa loses himself to his gentle ministrations, enjoying the way James’ weight presses into him, grounding him in the moment.

He startles when James’ tilts his head, blue eyes blinking up at T’Challa. 

“How much longer do I have you?” he drowsily inquires, the coffee still not having kicked in. “Before you have to go off and do kingly things?”

T’Challa can see the uncertainty swirling through James’ eyes, tries as he does to cloak it. His lover is a deeply understanding man, never questioning T’Challa’s duties to his county and people, never complaining when he often wakes up to an empty bed or staying up into the late hours of night, awaiting T’Challa and ensuring he ate and bathed before bed, clucking like a mother hen all the while.

And yet he remains steadfastly at T’Challa’s side, an indescribable comfort in the turbulent storm that is T’Challa’s life as a ruler.

“Do not fear,” he softly murmurs as he continues running his fingers through James’ hair. “I can stay awhile yet.”

James’ body thrums as he snuggles in closer. His eyes slips shut and his breathing evens outs as he relaxes completely into T’Challa.

T’Challa settles in for the long haul, his eyes sweeping out across the heavenly landscape that is coming to life all around him.

Yes, T’Challa loves mornings such as these.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been working on some other projects. But fear not, I love this series and have several more ideas swirling around my head, just need to put pen to paper. So the series continues! 
> 
> Thank you so much to all the love all of you have been showing these stories. I could never have imagined all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. I have received. It brightens my day every time I see the outpouring this series has received. Please keep it up! 
> 
> Pic time!
> 
> T'Challa's dashiki:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/26923477868/in/dateposted-public/)


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